Consequences of Love
by Morrosseth
Summary: Elves and half elves were never meant to be together. Arsia ignored this logic, and finds the consequence to defying the elvish kind…


**Consequences of Love**

Genre: General/Romance

Pairing: Rambard x Arsia

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Tales of Phantasia © Namco

Summary: Elves and half elves were never meant to be together. Arsia ignored this logic, and finds the consequence to defying the elvish kind…

**Author's Note**: I decided to indulge in Chester's Bow's side quest, thanks to my ever wonderful star, and stumbled upon perhaps the most melancholy pairing of all ages. Cheers to Rambard and Arsia! Also, I have this strange urge to write about characters people forget. On a last note, parts in _italics_ are scenes that include parts of the story line, such as events or parts that include only information, not written by me.

* * *

_Whisked away on the sundering winds, a mournful cry rang out as clear as a hawk's cry. Its origin was hidden away, east of the great colonies of Ymir, huddled in a dusty corner of the ancient manor. It was cloaked under the shielding grasp of the mountains, and close to a relatively small sea between the continent of Alvanista and Freyland. There, lived a woman, a half elf to be exact, and the one love of her life._

_She was content, in a sense, because he would live forever with her. Though he never spoke a single word to her, nor embraced her warmly, she knew he had loved her with all his being every time she looked at him._

Her name was Arsia, and his name was Rambard.

* * *

Elves were running back and forth, preparing for the great Spring Festival of Ymir. It was when all the trees in Treant forest would blossom in a brilliant scarlet shade under the mingling light of the two moons. Stalls have been set up around town, and all were surrounded by merry laughter. Arsia had been an apprentice carver and sculptor then, young in the eyes of her people. Though half-elves weren't highly appraised, they certainly weren't hated at the time either. Arsia tightened the bandana like cloth keeping her hair out of her face as she worked, when a soft tinkling of chimes announced the arrival of yet another welcome gald spender. 

"I'm looking for a custom bow." The new man said, smiling broadly at her. Arsia felt a faint blush creep up her face as his eyes met her own. "I'm Rambard." He said, taking her silence as a cue to introduce him self. Rambard. Her eyes widened. It was Lord Rambard, last she remembered, Lord of Ymir… 'Fitting that his eyes should resemble the mirror waters…' She thought, losing herself the deep pools of dim blue-green.

"… Excuse me? Pardon my rudeness, but I was told that I could find a woman by the names of Arsia around these parts. Could you perhaps tell me where she is?"

"She's—I'm here…" The blonde managed to squeak, holding her fists close to her chest. Her mismatched eyes looked him over. He seemed…Pleasant. "Ah! A pleasure to meet you, Arsia! I guess you know why I'm here…" He said rather sheepishly. She nodded, and wrote it down on a note pad by her desk. "Please return in five hours." She said, trying to keep her composure. When the elf lord left, Arsia sat herself down in a mahogany chair, wondering why what she had gotten herself into.

Rambard has been a well known archer, whose aim with the bow had been more deadly than the wrath of the spirit of Burning Sand…But his personality…Such a difference. He was as calm as the Seas of Undine, ever changing and adapting to all. But from what Arsia saw, he was grounded to Ymir, unchanging like the earth. Despite all this the elf lord ruled like the wind. He was just...And he was fair. 'He's fair in quite a few ways as a matter of fact.' Arsia mused to herself, picking a long bit of yew timber.

The sign on her shop's glass door was flipped to closed, and the half elf encased inside worked with speed blessed by Origin. Chisels shaped the wood into a re-curve shape, and fine knives chipped away at the surface, engraving designs of leaves and vines at the end. The fine wire for the bow string was attached to the wood with much care, and the end result was as beautiful as Arsia had imagined it. A bow fit for a king. No. A bow fit for her love.

* * *

By the time Rambard arrived for the bow, it was late in the afternoon. Most elves were cleaning up from the festivities, and most had already gone to pay tribute to the Heimdall Stone, praying to Origin for another prosperous year. He had run into the small shop looking flustered, and bent over with his hands resting on his knees. "Ahh! I apologize for being late! Arsia…? Arsia…? Are you here?" He looked around, the light foot steps barely made any sound on the hard floor boards. He skillfully maneuvered around piles of scrap wood and string mediums. 

The soft glow of an oil lamp showed Rambard the way to Arsia's private workshop. Moccasin-ed feet kicked woodchips to one side. Maybe he'd help her clean this place up a bit later… His visage melted into a serene gaze as the scene played out before him. Wavering light from the flame made Arsia's hair a hue of wild honey, and gave her cheeks a rosy tint. "Dear Arsia…" He mumbled, as his fingers felt the package loosely bound in layers of soft doe leather. "Ah? What is this…?" He whispered, careful not to wake the slumbering half elf.

Nimble fingers tugged at the twine that held the messy looking parcel together. Surprisingly, it came apart quite easily. He unfurled the bundle in a smooth motion, eyes widening at the prize he saw inside. A re-curve bow, though simple in design, bore intricate little carvings of the twisting vines found outside the Elf Lord's residence. Tiny flower blossoms were depicted at the end of each vine. "I can't use this…" He breathed, not wanting to ruin the fine craftsmanship.

A soft smile wrought through his expression while he scribbled a note on a near by card. Rambard left a small sack of coins beside Arsia and left the building.

* * *

Arsia woke from an interesting dream. She didn't admit it to anyone, though a single green-blue haired elf haunted her mind at every moment. As she jerked around, the sack fell onto the floor board with a clatter with the card fluttering just behind it. Her slender hand calloused from work picked up the sack and secured it to her waist while she read the note. 'Meet me at the Heimdall Stone; Midnight when the blossoms are at their fullest.' It read. It didn't take long for Arsia to lock the door to the shop behind her and dash home to get ready for her… Encounter.

* * *

Moonlight flooded through the tall canopy. Flowers those were unfortunate enough to grow below the wide branches of the trees in Treant Wood strained their little leaves upwards, hoping to gain some strength from the Spring Moons' light. Sylvarant shone its light from high above, and Tethe'alla followed suit. Just when Arsia thought she was seriously lost, (Apparently Bush Babies also took a break when it was the Spring Festival) a smooth black stone jutting from the ground came in sight. 

Not that she didn't respect the great Heimdall stone, she admired Origin just as much as the next elf, but it was the figure that leaned against the stone she was more interested in. "Lord Rambard…" She gasped, more out of joy than surprise. The elf turned his head to see the newcomer and smiled.

"Just Rambard please, Arsia." He said, sitting down by against the sleek back stone of Origin's mark. "You're just in time…" He said, almost dreamily. "We're in the heart of Treant Wood… Please. Look up…" He patted at the patch of grass beside him. She smoothed the flaps of her white and violet shirt as she pulled her knees up to her chest.

"Why did you want to see me here? A bow is not worth that much…" The half elf asked, looking up as he had asked. Between the numerous leaves, lay a hole not much bigger than the size of a melon. "Shh… Just watch Arsia…" He said, putting a long finger over her lips to silence her. Ten seconds pasted, and Arsia just sat there, blushing. His hand was warm, she noted, despite the cool night air.

Gold and silver light of the moons shone through the hole as Tethe'alla and Sylvarant crossed path in their arch in the sky, one behind the other. The beams flooded into the forest, but Heimdall remained as dark as ever, until the serene glow filtered through the aforementioned hole, coming down right above Arsia's head. It hit the tip of the stone, scattering and reflecting off into the forest in thousands of tiny beams, dancing like fireflies and the moons continued their nightly flight. The blossoms bloomed ever fuller, basking in the moon, and pale green lunar moths filled the air, scattering their golden dust.

"Rambard…" Arsia murmured, unconsciously leaning against the elf's slid shoulders. "It's… It's so…"

"Captivating? Arsia… I have a confession."

"Don't say it."

"I'm not asking you to leave from my sight."

"…Well there's a first."

"Ha… Actually, I've been watching you from afar for quite sometime…"

"I'd call you a stalker if you haven't just shown me something so beautiful…"

"What if I told you I loved you?"

"I'd have to say them same…"

Rambard smiled, peering down at the mismatched eyes of the carver. "Good night." He said, placing a light kiss on her forehead. She didn't know what happened next, only that she fell into slumber as the flurry of gold continued cascading to the ground.

* * *

During the Festival of Flames, Rambard proposed with a ring of pale amethyst. He had said it accented her eyes. Fireworks had been set off in the background as he knelt before the master carver. "Sylvarant would envy your beauty and Tethe'alla your grace, my love… But unlike the ambience and strength of the moons, your life does not wax, nor does it wane… You captivate me so…" 

Arsia couldn't keep her eyes from watering as she flung herself into his ready grasp. "And I would ask you…To remain by my side from now until the end of our days… Arsia… Please, would you accept this ring in hand of marriage?"

She didn't need to respond. With a nod and a meaningful gaze in her eyes, she accepted, and nuzzled her wet face into his billowing blue-green mane. It reminded her of the lake that this bridge crossed. The fireworks dyed his hair brilliant shades of red and gold just as it did the surface of the lake. "Rambard… I love you…"

"I know, my dear. I know."

* * *

"Let go of me!!" The undoubtedly feminine scream shattered the silence of the night, while cold winds blew the last of the red leaves to the ground. Winter was ever so slowly creeping into their forest; painting leaves red, and bringing blankets of white to their lands. 

"Miss, if you would cooperate and leave peacefully—"

"I'm not leaving!" Another cry of anguish sounded as she flung the nearest object, a hefty block of stone, at the pair of soldiers. Tears streamed down her face. 'Why isn't he coming? Why now? The marriage is in a month…' She thought sadly as she lobbed a chair at the two intruders.

"All half elves are requested to calmly leave the colony. By orders of the council, all who resist will face the penalty of death!" The soldier announced, showing her the scroll. Arsia, who was just as defiant as ever, ripped the scroll into four sections then spat on it. "I don't really CARE if we have to leave! Ask Lord Rambard! He'll skin you alive if he finds out!"

"…Then we'll have to make sure he doesn't find out. The elves no longer have any connection to any with filthy human blood!" The second guard shouted, heaving his scimitar into air, ready to cut her in half. "Let me be!" Arsia screamed again, and a faint glow from her engagement ring came forth. The guard who raised his blade held an expression of shock before he froze. The wide open eyes would never see anything again.

The other soldier, now left to deal with Arsia alone backed away slowly, pressing a horn to his lips. Within seconds, an ivory horn sounded, alerting all soldiers of danger in the colony. Arsia, now enraged, advanced towards the soldier. She caught his gaze flickering to the stone figure behind her. Lips curled up into a cold smirk. "You'll make a beautiful statue as well…" She purred, raising her ring finger. It glowed eerily once more.

Knowing what was coming, the soldier flailed his arms to leave the building, successfully knocking over an oil lamp. It shattered, and the oil stained wall quickly caught on fire. Arsia barely allowed herself to be distracted, and in moments, the soldier was turned to stone as well.

There was a rustling of leaves in near by bushes, and Arsia was ready to freeze the third intruder as well, but stopped when she caught a glimpse of familiar turquoise hair. "Arsia! Thank Origin, you're alive…" He gasped, taking her into his warm embrace. "Rambard…" She cried, hiding her face in the folds of his tunic. "Arsia, you must leave! They will kill you if they catch you. Run! I'll hold them off! They dare not harm their lord!"

"But Rambard, why now? There is but a month left before…"

"The elves grow distrustful of humans… All with their blood are forced to leave. I can't stop them Arsia… It's the entire colony. They will not listen to what I say…" He looked into her eyes sternly. "Run Arsia. Run east from here to an abandoned manor. It will serve you well!" He stroked her cheek with his fingers, and she marveled at how soft his touch was even after all this time.

"Don't forget me Arsia… Promise me. And don't let them catch you…" He jerked his head to his left as he heard elves clambering to get to them. "Please! Origin will be with you! You have no time!" Through tears, Arsia kissed Rambard one last time before turning and making her way out of the treacherous grasp of the forest.

When she finally arrived at the manor Rambard has said, she collapsed onto the tree beside the build and wept hard. Sylvarant took a reddish tint, as if mimicking her agony, and Tethe'alla blue, reflecting her sorrow. She didn't see Rambard again after that.

* * *

_Ages past, and Arsia had been true to her word. None who were unfortunate enough to venture to her manor escaped with their lives. After a while, those unfortunate souls just stopped coming by. Though she had silenced many who trespassed, none of it prepared her for the day a swordsman, Cless Alvein, came knocking on her door, pleading for her to fix a broken bow._

_The make of the bow seemed too similar to the one she had made for Rambard when they first met. The deep, resounding hurt in his eyes reminded her of Rambard's pleading gaze when he begged her to leave for his sake. The same desperate desire to regain memories of ones whom they had lost…_

_It sickened Arsia that he would keep clinging to such a fickle thing as hope. But to humour him, or so she believed, she accepted to help him mend the bow. On one condition. They would enter Ymir Forest, and bring Rambard to her. One of them would remain with her, incased in stone, as a…Deposit to ensure they would certainly bring to Arsia her love…_

_They were too slow. The cleric was supposed to remain, but the half elf witch was frozen in her place. The oddly dressed man suggested they leave to find Rambard fast, to reclaim the pink haired girl. And so they left, too worried about their companion to remember taking the broken bow with them…_

_The thought amused Arsia to no end. They cared too much for a filthy being like her kind…And the half elf cared for the cleric so much as to take her place as hostage. It simply didn't feel right. Without a second thought, she placed an index finger, where the engagement ring now resided, onto the witch's stone cold forehead. "Why do you not hate them…? Why you do not sent their kind? They have banished our kind from their sight in disgust, and even humans have shunned us. We have no place among them…"_

_To her surprise, there was an answer. The girl was encased in stone, but she was still aware. 'Because she still cares for me.' The image of another pink haired woman, an inn owner flashed into her mind, etching into her the presence. 'Hatred leads to revenge. And revenge to more hatred. That's why I have to keep going with my friends to Dhaos. I cannot hate my mother… She saved my life. I'm not one to offer advice… But don't let it blind you. Don't do what I did. Don't repeat mistakes.'_

_Arsia jerked her hand back, astounded. It wasn't the girl's voice. Not all of it anyway. She was sure it was higher. Perhaps… There was a figment of memory left in the girl's soul. A guardian angel. Arsia smirked. She knew she had anything but an angel.

* * *

_

_They were an honest bunch, she'll give them that much. If they hadn't been, Rambard would not be handing before them now._

"_Why can't you stay with me?!"_

"_I cannot leave my people Arsia!" _

"I love you Rambard!"

"_And I love you with my entire life… You are the only thing I think of every morning… Don't blind yourself Arsia. I want to be here as much as you want me to…"_

_Arsia fumed. Was he betraying her? Why wouldn't he just stay! His people had sundered their love! It was his people that forced her into hiding for all these ages! And now to throw away their only chance of true happiness…_

"_If you won't stay with me…" She grounded out, half wrecked with sobs. "Then I won't turn her back!" She shouted the last part, jerking a smooth finger at the stone figure of one Arche Klaine. The company froze, Mint Adenade wore a façade of sheer horror, and even the swordsman was surprised. The summons master looked indifferent, though Arsia could feel the inner turmoil. He wasn't sure if she would carry out her words._

"_Take me instead." Then the all eyes in the room were set on Lord Rambard. "I said take me instead. My duties will not permit me to stay with you. In that case, turn me to stone. I'll take her place, and in turn I shall remain with you for eternity…"_

"_Rambard-san…" The cleric looked torn. Arsia didn't exactly care what she thought. "There must be another way though!" Rambard merely shook his head. "There is no other." Choking through her tears, the familiar glow returned, stealing from Rambard his mana, and redirecting it to the resurrection of Arche._

_Arsia leaned over the counter, her entire weight resting on her arms. "Go and leave me be!" The words struck true, and the party left, forgetting their precious bow once more. The words pierced through Arsia more than a sword may have. She had said that before. But now she had no one to look to. It scared her that she was now truly alone…_

_

* * *

_"Rambard…?" Arsia asked, waking to another morning. "Rambard dear, did you sleep well?" She couldn't help the tears from falling. She finally had her love back. But it felt so hollow. The eyes that were once clearer than the mirroring waters were now dull, yet they held hidden warmth that she could no longer touch. 

She had once combed her fingers through long locks of light blue-green, but it was now but a mass of stone that depicted remnants of smooth flowing hair. His touch was stone cold when once it was warm, and his lips were hard when once was soft. The resonating voice, which at a time called her name will linger as a mere memory.

But as she tilted her head upwards, she noticed he was smiling. The corners of his lips were pinched upwards, and his eyes held a soft memory, as if laughing with her. In the end he smiled for her.

With tears rolling down her face, she wrapped her arms around his statue like form, and pressed her lips onto his, hoping to be granted entry into a mouth that will never again open. She couldn't return him to normal or they all be sundered again. She fell to the ground and openly wept when the severity of her loss struck home. "Rambard…" And in the end, all she could do was weep.

* * *

It was spring, half a year after the strange party left her abode. Sparrows chirped as the snow thawed. It was around this day, ages ago when an elf lord entered the small shop of a woodworker. And at the time, they were happy. 

End.


End file.
